NAKED HOLOCAUST . PART XII
Our planet is trampled. Seen from the mountain slope, the valleys look bruised by innumerable footprints. Trees have been flattened, soil compacted, and everywhere human structures are lying in ruins, driven into the ground. The giant girls do not sleep much, but when they do, the incredible in-print of their enormous bodies distort the landscape, trace area of destructions in the fields and forests and cities.
It had soon become apparent that re-claiming the agricultural lands after the passing of the giant beings would be a mammoth task in its own rights. The soil everywhere in the country has been piled in to such high pressure, it resembles the peat of the Irish bogs. Shattered riverbeds have spilled their floods all over the landscape, turning arable lands into marshes. The few pictures from airplanes we get on the last available sites of the half functioning net are just stupendous. Large path trails have slowly been eroding the planet, where giantesses seemed to follow a regular pattern (they never do for a long time…). Even on satellites shots, the devastation is clearly visible, especially around the cities. They have ruined our world for centuries.
But they are not staying. We’re not allowing this.
As the production of the quantum-shift “explosive” has stepped into overdrive, thanks to the efforts of the Chinese scientists, and the international effort, the number of giantesses has been slowly but surely dwindling down. Everywhere on the planet, volunteers have been planting the devices deep in the hungry stomachs, in a final and terrible act of heroism, and hate. Just as much as survival, retribution is fuelling the hundred of men and women who have now, strangely enough, become the hunters, and are giving their lives away in an ultimate closure act for their personal grief. The times are coming when walking in daylight will no longer mean diving down the vast throat of a girl, or being squished to a pulp under an uncaring foot. At long last, we’re on to them.
I am no volunteer. I never was. Unlike many of my fellow men, who have lost it all in the carnage, I have quite simply too much to live for. If I hadn’t met her, well, who knows, I might have conceded my life to a strange sense of duty and heroism,. But Yana’s love has made this impossible. The whole planet is not worth losing her. And there’s also the intriguing fact that the more I see them, the less I seem to hate them. The giantesses are beautiful animals to me. They talk, and even laugh at times, but beyond the alien worlds, the alien and yet childish intelligence is a programming not unlike the merciless instinct of a feline. They do what they are “born” to do, without anger, without passion. I just cannot bring myself to hate them as much as I probably should. I somehow lack this hate now to volunteer for the now increasingly numerous (and successful) suicide attacks.
By the end of the year, half of the giant girls have been destroyed. Each one of them has resumed in death her original shape and size. Each one of these deaths is coupled with the sacrifice of a human bomb. And never were the bodies of those recently ingested recovered. The crude autopsies performed on the bodies showed no internal anomalies. Not even the shredded stomachs we were all expecting. This strange fact is a disturbing reminder there are so many unknowns to our current situation.
Oddly enough the environing fear level has stepped up one hell of a notch. As it slowly dawns upon us all that maybe we have a chance at ending the conflict in a not-so-distant future, also come the fear of meeting one’s fate under the foot of one of the last girls. It may yet take another year to rid the planet of this huge infestation, and the hope of surviving is now proportional to the fear of not making it alive.
To be caught now would be such bad luck.
…………………………………………………
“Time to scream, you poor fool” I think as I see a running Josh being caught between two humongous fingers. He screams all right, his fists beating against the rough skin. I’m running too, but keep glancing back to witness the usual sad and yet fascinating routine. Josh’s voice rises high above, gives out a funny hollow echo as he penetrates into the deep cave of the mouth, and then is cut short between the hungry lips. A resounding whisper of satisfaction marks his passing through the great gullet. His body slips down the girl’s throat, hardly noticeable, like a swallowed candy . Same all, same all. I rush towards the nearest building. “Please , please, have a basement” I silently plead. Behind me the heavy thuds of the footsteps have resumed, the pavement cracking in sharp breaking sounds under the unthinkable weight.
She’s as beautiful as she’s deadly. Her lean and gigantic body sends a long shadow over the streets, and even her smell pervades the air now that she’s turning in our direction. Her breasts follow the rhythm of her leisurely gait, massive orbs of flesh that would flatten a car under their weight, her auburn hair flows along her shoulders, in complex and silky curves. She squeezes past the tall buildings, shattering windowpanes in the process The distinct metallic explosion of a car crushed by her foot is a sharp reminder I better not look back too long. Inside at last. The bank (I think it was a bank) is no more than a pile of junk now, its counters shattered, its furniture damaged by all the looting that took place. I walk to the yet intact window panes. An enormous foot is landing in the street just in front of me. The massive object seems to weight millions of tons, supporting as it does the huge frame of the woman above. The usual cracking sound comes from the pavement, as it sinks slowly into the tarmac. I stare at it, as it starts its flight away from me, the sole looking black and dirty, with a red hint also, of what I think may be the remnants of a person, squished beyond all recognition. I instinctively brace for impact, expecting another foot to come crashing through the ceiling above my head. But I’m in luck.
I risk going outside, moved by the same fascination which has put me in trouble so many times before. The girl is walking away, following the artery. I watch the tall legs as they move, the enormous and yet perfect ass so far away from the ground, the slow rhythm of the hips. A river of hair covers the muscular back of the young woman. I have to crane my neck to see her shoulders, on high. A motion catches my eyes, at ground level. Appearing right between the passing feet, a couple of people rush from a side street straight into her path. What the hell? I see the giant body come to a sudden stop. The two people, a woman and a man, are making a run for the base of a tall office block ( that doesn’t even reach the hip of the giantess). Are they stupid or what? They run past the feet of the girls, in the opposite direction of her walk. I see the vast swoosh of the long black hair as the girl is turning her head, revealing her face. A smile starts to stretch her well drawn lips. The giant body starts a slow rotation, as she turns back to follow the foolish couple. In the turn, her right foot bumps into a car, that is sent flying straight into a building, projecting glass and metal on the pavement , before it crashes down on a news kiosk. I hear the couple scream in unison , as they realized the consequence of their folly. Above them, the giant girl begins to slowly lower her enormous mass, a prying hand reaching down. I get a glimpse of the huge breasts lowering down, before they get hidden by the large curtain of her hair.
A massive knee touches the ground just behind the running couple, the long thigh showing powerful and lean muscles. The girl picks up the fleeing man first, with fingers so large they should squash him instantly, but also with such a care, it doesn’t even prevent him from screaming even more. He’s lifted high , at breast level before being deposited into the waiting palm of the girl’s hand. I see the fingers curling on him to contain his struggling body. The gaze of the giant girl comes back down, and a satisfied smile purses her lips, when she spots the woman, who is standing still, her face in shock, looking up stupidly at the hand that holds her companion. I can see a tiny arm reaching out and flaying wildly from between two relaxed fingers. The woman doest shout the huge thumb and index finger grip her gently and start lifting her to the hungry eyes. Her silence tells me more about her experience than the usual screaming. She’s gone and she knows it. She’s food and she knows it.
As I stand in the doorway of the dilapidated bank, my heart pulse is hardly accelerating. I only witness a basic fact of biology, the daily routine of a species that is staple food for a more powerful form of life. We all grew accustomed to this sight.
What I did not expect is the sound of feet. The girl down the street is just about standing up now, stretching her unbelievable naked body over the roof tops of the city. She’s not walking. A shadow covers the street. I look up, just in time to see a giant leg and foot falling from the sky over the top of the bank, the foot coming down on the street like a falling aircraft. I jump back inside, just as the massive heel lands a mere meters from me. I fall on my ass, crawling frantically inside . The heel is pivoting, grinding the tarmac to crumbles. A second later, it raises again, and I hear another foot stomping down the street.
It takes an effort to look out from my hiding place. The mass above is overwhelming, the twin pillars of the legs hiding all view from the giantess. When she joins the other girl down the street, I can at last see her face, showing Nordic or Slavic features. Her hair is cut short. (It does not seem the girls’ hair is ever growing since their transformation) . Her body is long is and slim, she’s slightly taller than the first girl. This one is waiting for her, setting her ass on the top of the office block, in a relaxed stance. She smiles and beckons the new-comer. Her voice is so powerful, it tells us volumes about the lungs and throat that produces it. The liquid and alien words do not mean anything , although I know linguists of all countries are trying to analyse it. Two girls meeting during a leisurely stroll. The Swedish-looking girl sits on the building next to her – friend? colleague? lover?
Cracking noises erupt from the building, as long cracks appear in the façade. The last remaining window panes from the high floors burst in a shower of glass. The girl makes a worried face, glancing down at her seat, cautiously settling her weight. When she’s assured it will hold, she smiles and turns again to the other woman. Their thighs are now massive arches over the street, and their feet are resting casually against the base of the opposite building.
They exchange sentences that seem just too short to contain any valuable information. A neighbourly chat, I surmise. The weather, the landscape, the food… They have the usual relaxed expression we are so accustomed to. I the midst of the destruction and horrors, these beings seem to glide on a little cloud of happiness. Are they on schedule? Is the plan unfolding as it should? No nagging doubts or worries? This casual serenity is probably one of the most horrid characteristic of the giant girls. The two I’m eyeing now remind me of two bathers on vacation, totally carefree, yet they must be aware their number is slowly dwindling. Or are they? I look at them as they exchange extremely short words and they appear to me as some video game characters, with their perfect physique and two-bits language. (it is my opinion, they are simply blessed with the minimal intelligence required to perform their task, no more, no less, and it seems to me we should have decoded most of this language by now, but, hell I’m no expert, I suppose). The strong wind that has been blowing from the West for the past two days is hardly moving the tip of their hair, accentuating the feeling I have of looking at a couple of oversize Barbie dolls.
I can make out the couple lost in the palm of their captor. In spite of the wind, I can hear their whimper, between two booming words from the giantess, as they struggle against the relaxed fingers, totally unheeded by the women.
Being caught is bad enough, I guess, being held as they are, almost forgotten, and listening to this pair chatting away must be beyond frightening. They were people, with their own stories and hope and feelings, and now they are sweets in the hand of that woman, to be consumed at her whim. I’d rather go for a quick squish myself, rather than enduring this utter negation of my life and being. I see the legs of the man trashing on the edge of the giant palm, as he obviously struggles to squeeze through. A sudden jostle of the vast hand, an absent minded prodding of a large finger, and his efforts are nullified. Sweets don’t struggle that much…
This is taking ages. Once in while the woman pushes back her whimpering snacks back into her hand, while conversing with the other giantess. It’s getting dark and I better get moving, while they’re on this prolonged Kit Kat break. I need to get back to the rendez-vous point where Yana and the others are waiting for me. She must be beside herself with worry now. Even if the camp is well up on the hills, she’s bound to have seen those two women barge into the town. I slowly follow the façade of the bank, towards the streets the hapless couple ran from. I‘m trying to make myself paper-thin against the walls, but I know that if they look in my direction, I’m food. When I turn the corner of the street, and have to let them out of my sight, my ears are straining for the slightest break in their conversation. I start slipping along facades, hoping to clear the danger zone and be hidden from the sitting girls. Something is emerging from an adjacent street . Something large and oddly familiar. Something very scary.
I freeze on the spot , but my innards start somersaulting in my chest . So, that what’s the couple was really running from. And me who thought they had been frightened by the second girl… Damn… The tiger carefully walks to the centre of the street, its head low and his tail flaying nervously in the street dust. It hasn’t spotted me yet, as the wind is my favour. I’m a hundred meters away but I feel I could touch him. Its body is lean, and I don’t think he got many preys over the past few days. So by the look of it, from potential snack, I’ve been promoted to perfect lunch. I slowly, slowly start to retreat, my back hugging the walls. The animal looks nervous, sniffing the air, his ears pricked up for the loud booming noises from the two girls’ weird chatter above us. “Damn you, shoo, stupid cat!” , I find myself thinking. If he only meows, we’ both gonna be in a heap of trouble.
The tiger is looking in my direction now, a paw in the air, transfixed like a salt statue in the middle of the street. I have retreated along the façade straight into the line of sight of the two girls that occupy half the nearby street, still sitting on the straining buildings. The tiger is coming my way, in a tentative gait, his large yes fixed upon me. I guess his fear of the loud voices is fighting his compulsion to eat the tender morsel I am. He knows something’s afoot; We both move slowly, in a mute show-down, as I re-enter the street behind me. I know what’s going to happen. If I know cats enough, the tiger will pounce as soon as it feels I’m about to be out of sight. On my right, the two monumental girls are still occupying the end of the street, and more straining and crumbling noises are coming from the sturdy buildings that support their asses. I stop, my skin melting in a torrent of sweat, it seems. This cat would have to blind not to find me now. The tiger stops too, sniffing the air, looking worried. Be scared, damn you, be scared. But I know the two beings probably won’t register much against his hunger, too big or part of the landscape and all… I jump.
In the microsecond it takes to turn round and start my flight, I catch the leap forward of the predator. I sprint like hell towards the nearest door. My hands grabs a handle. I turn it. It opens. Behind me the clicking noise of claws on tarmac is clearly audible. I rush inside. Push back the door, frantically looking for a latch, a key, a bolt. Something large and howling comes crashing on it. I have my back on the door, and arches all my weight against it. Yet the shock is so strong, I’m projected on the floor. Outside the street is a carnival of snarls, and clawing , as huge paws work on the panel. I jump to my feet. The place is dark and all I see is the light coming from under the door, where the tigers paws project their moving shadows. The door trembles. It just won’t hold the hungry beast for long, I know that, feeling trapped and helpless. Why the hell did I not take my gun this morning? It was supposed to be a simple errand but… Killed by my stupid complacency. Damn, I need to….
An excited giggle easily covers over the frightening raucous. The clawing stops abruptly. I hear the snarl of the tiger in front of the door, as it recedes quickly in the distance. Ow, man, this is insane. The window panes open ever so slightly, enough for me to see the beast being hauled up high by two huge fingers. The poor bastard should have paid heed to his fear. It looks like a kid toy in the fingers of the girl (the tallest one, with the long black hair), who is sitting back next to her “friend”. She examines it joyfully, brings it to her nose for a quick sniff, smiles with all her teeth. Her friend is all excited too, petting the tiger’s head with a humongous index.
The terrorized animal is soon introduced between two luscious lips, as the young woman sucks on its body dreamily, its striped fur is glistening with saliva. Obviously the killing claws are no concern to the woman. The long tail is flying madly, the powerful body convulsing in the overpowering grip of the two feminine and perfectly manicured fingers. This is one the weirdest sight I ever witnessed during this crisis. The crunch that follows is sickening, as the pearly white teeth of the brunette cut right through the beast. (They don’t do that often, but it happens once in a while). The tail falls limp now. A geyser of blood pours forth, splattering against the girl’s chin. She wipes it with a distracted finger, while chewing heartily, as one would a chocolate bar. She pops the rest of the animal in her mouth and soon, the dangerous beast is swallowed in the vast throat... I don’t know whether to rejoice or to be sad. I feel sick… and small, very small, indeed.
New shrieks make me lift my eyes again. Obviously the little interruption has rekindled the women’s appetite. I watch the man she caught earlier being lifted above his captor’s head, twenty floors high. He dangles by his feet, screaming over the up-turned face of the young woman, who starts opening a wide, wide mouth. She lowers the screaming guy into her mouth, and finds it hilarious that the man prevents his engulfment by catching the edge of her teeth. She wiggles the tip of her tongue against his face. His hands lose the meagre grip they had on the white and sleek surface, and down he goes , shooting a useless and echoing “ Noooo!!!!”. But yes it is and a pretty deep yes, it seems. It does look as if the man must have his head rubbing right against her uvula, as his feet are pushed in by a curling tongue that retracts between the slowly closing lips, and her empty fingers come out. Keeping her head craned back, the young woman closes her eyes, as she works her victim towards her throat. When she redresses her head suddenly, tightening her lips in the hard swallow, her neck acknowledges the passing of this large morsel. I swear I could still hear him as he went down the throat, the poor bastard. I stare at the vast expense of her smooth belly.
The second treat is now dangling too, by one arm. The giantess is saying something to the other one, her hands following her speech in a merry and agitated way. Her victim is trashed from side to side in the swinging grip, her shoulder probably dislocated by now, and I can’t imagine how painful that must be up there. It is no matter for the giant girls. After a minute or so, it’s the turn of the tall brunette to set her head back , holding her long hair in a nonchalant way, while her friend proceeds in feeding her the shrieking woman. She’s introduced into the wet cave, slided across the tongue, then taken out again by the playful girls, and this over and over. I can see her banging her face on the front teeth and her feet attempting to push off the wet carpet of the teasing tongue. She must be looking at hell itself, at the bottom of that glistening well. I don’t want to see the rest. I do hear the screams disappear behind the smiling lips, but I have my hands on my ears for the final gulping.
The two women have stopped chatting, both of them looking happy to share a moment of silence. Both have crossed their legs, in a very feminine fashion, looking like two customers at the terrace of a café, but with a strange vacant look in their eyes Within their well-toned and irreproachable bellies, a horrible struggle has started.
I wonder what to do now. I’m too much in shock myself to think clearly, and I guess the adrenalin will take a while to leave my blood. I shake like a leaf and feel cold all over. I watch the girls outside, wishing them away with all my heart, so that I can get the hell out of this stupid town and rejoin Yana. I know I won’t dare to move till is really dark. I have to face the fact that I am really, really scared now, as scared as I used to be in the Beginning. Not only these two hungry girls are waiting outside, but if a tiger made it to these streets, God knows what else may be lurking too.
We’re all well expecting such encounters in urban area, of course. With the fall of the cities, most zoos have been destroyed, the animals scattered, and back to a wild state. I had heard many stories. Did not expect to live through one, though. The presence of the giantess has sent many wild animal into frenzied panic, and has displaced even the larger ones. I heard bears were coming out of their native woods in the North, the natural quietness of their habitat disturbed by the giant trampling. They find another source of food today, closer to our towns.…
I sit on the damp floor, dejected and feeling like a trapped mouse, while the happy women outside enjoy the coming sunset.
I open the useless mobile phone that was the reason of my coming to town. Power supplies are getting scarce, but having a mobile on the newly restarted network can save lives. I had come in that shitty city to find a new one. I check the display. Not enough power for a call, of course. But for a second or two, I get to look at a picture I took of Yana, before the screen turns back with a beep. I close my eyes to try and keep this image vivid on my retinas.
An hour passes by. I’m about to get more comfortable in the dark room, when a low rumble start shaking the ground. I stand up in her hurry and jump to the window. Did they see me, after all? Outside, in the rosy light of the sunset, I see the two girls standing up in a hurry, as the buildings they were sat on are finally collapsing. The floors come crashing in the street, in a loud shower of bricks and steel and glass. The noise is tremendous. A huge cloud of dust billows around the women’s legs, and rushes in my direction. I close the panel just in time to feel the force of the sudden blow, dust pushing through every interstices of the room. A hysterical laughter explode in the street , louder than the crash.
Okey, this has to be my cue, I guess. When I step out of the building, the street is nowhere to be seen under the heavy cloud. That will do, I decide. I run into the brown fog, as fast as I can, away from the madness, holding my mouth shut, and protecting my eyes the best I can… Behind me, the inhuman laughter rumbles through the fog. I vaguely discern the pillars of the pairs of calves in the whirlpool of dust, the bodies are high above but not visible to me. I sure hope they don’t see through the mess from up there. A few minutes later, tremors travel through the shattered tarmac, in a complex rhythm. I stop in my tracks, trying to judge the direction of the trampling. A wave of relief washes across me when I realize the tremors are getting weaker. They are going away at last.
As the dust disperses, at the end of the long avenue, I dare looking back. I can see the girls walking away from town. They are miles away already, their shapes diminished to more human proportions, it seems. They have wonderful silhouettes, both of them, regular centrefold items. But the brunette girl is so large, she makes the other look like a child. When they rise above the far way hill, and eventually step over it, one foot one the facing slope and the other disappearing behind the summit ridge, the very landscape is ridiculed by their sheer size and power. In a minute, both head disappear beyond the hill. It won’t take them long to get to the next town, the next hunting ground. I start walking back to our schedule meeting point.
The town looks like a bombed city, most of the buildings have been tumbled down, trampled upon, or at the very least damaged by the giantesses. It takes some doing, even for them to bring so much destruction to a place. What I witness is not the consequence of this last short visit, but the outcome of many, many wanderings of the giant girls, over a period of three years, each one adding her own touch to the wreckage. On the hillside dominating the small city, the trail of the vast feet is easily visible too, the tall trees trampled like blades of grass. In fact, as I scan the horizon, every slope of the hills that surround the once thriving touristy place bears the marks of a giant shuffle. The entire valley is scarred beyond recognition.
Down the street in front of me, I shiver when I see the familiar splatter of a squished victim. Man or woman, I don’t know, nor do I want to know. The remnants are all the more offensive that the shape of a human being is still clearly present in the bloody mess. In the early times, I would have walked as far away as possible from this obscenity, but today, my mind jaded by the past horrors, I simply pass by, looking straight ahead. Our streets are often littered with the squished ones, and I do not know any longer that they are so unlucky. The image of Josh being lifted up between two fingers comes rushing back. The poor guy is still probably alive just now. But he’s no longer the shy man I rescued in the lake district this winter, the brilliant computer geek that helped us link to the Chinese network these past few months. He’s now just another screaming lump of food deep within the strolling woman’s belly. Hell, he’s not even alone inside. One hour from now, what’s left of him and the other snacks will course through her intestines, nourishing her body. What a sad way to go. Yana is going to be so upset.. And I didn’t even find any decent food in that heap of debris.
Yana is waiting for me, along with four other folks. She’s smiling to me, visibly relived, as I walk up the last turns of the track to join them.
We no longer recruit any members for our merry gang of survivors. Large numbers play against us. Too visible, too much attrition. Among the innumerable tribes and clans that federate the inhabitants of the country, we’re probably a pretty safe one. I believe it is because we decided early to just keep moving. Any sedentary group eventually attracts one or two hungry girls that will stay and stalk their territories till they find a way to get all of them. In their strange way, the giantesses are relentless and their obstinacy is their unique but efficient strategy. It has worked well for them so far. The first urban survivors didn’t last too long, even in the maze of the vaster cities, hunted down by the large feet, the crane-like fingers and many ended up holed up in some basement, with a lazy giantess patiently waiting for them outside, or a more active one meticulously gutting out their hide out, till, exposed to the light, they were presented to her appetite like candies in a box.. The memory of the siege of our mountain cave is still fresh in my mind that nearly spelled out disaster for us all. I’m not about to let that happen again Better be caught on the move than dying this way.
I kiss Yana on the lips and let her have the bad news. Her face is shadowed by a grim look now. I think she gets more scared retrospectively, than I ever was during the ordeal itself. Locking my eyes to her, and feeling her body against mine, I also feel in my gut that new type fear, that gnawing anguish that has replaced the straightforward horror of the war. The fear of being one of the last snack….
I press Yana’s head against me, in the futile attempt to protect her also against the desperate sobbing of Josh’ girlfriend.
One more year, just give us one more year, and all will be fine.
Tbc